Changing Voices 

Arid Other Poems by 

R. D. BRODIE 




Class ^/^S^'<y 3 
Book ^^^Cf- 



COF>-KIGHT DEPOSIT. 



CHANGING VOICES 
AND OTHER POEMS 



R. D. BRODIE 




BOSTON 

RICHARD G. BADGER 

THE GORHAM PRESS 
1909 



Copyright 1909 by R. D. Brodie 



All Rights Reserved 



The Gorham press, Boston, U. S. a. 



©Ci.425l86- 



CONTENTS 

Page 

Changing Voices 7 

A Cancelled Bereavement 8 

Hear tease 9 

Abiding Light 11 

A Hand 13 

Lines written on Receipt of an Invitation 

to Commencement Exercises 15 

At Close of Day 17 

A Little Girl 18 

Sleep 19 

fVhat Will My Captain Say? 21 

To a Worn Prayer Book 22 

Memorial Day 24 

A Modern Psalm 27 

Via Solitaria 29 

Evening Retrospect 31 

Sic Transit 32 

The Grave of Hope 33 

A IV hole-Hearted Gift 40 

Vincit Qui Se Vincit 44 

Abigail 51 

3 



CONTENTS 

Page 

Vashti 53 

Esther 55 

JVork-Time Song 57 

Campaign Song 60 

Sugar Time 62 

Graduation Song 63 



CHANGING VOICES 



CHANGING VOICES 

So many voices fill the earth around 

No human ear can gather all the tunes 

But some one voice predominant is heard 

As when the swelling notes of some sweet bird 

O'er-whelm all nature's quieter timid runes, 

And make that spot for us enchanted ground, 

That 'neath their spell we hear that voice 

alone 
And silent others seem till that is gone. 

And yet another day for us that voice 
May rise and swell unnoted on the breeze, 
Another sound with power constrains the ear, 
And hearing it we it alone can hear, 
Though it be sad and have no charm to please 
But jars us with its discord and its noise. 



A CANCELLED BEREAVEMENT 

Outside the mourners raised their hideous 

wail; 
She only wept; and from her widow's veil 
There came in sorrow's deepest, saddest tone, 
'Mid choking sobs, the mother's hopeless 
moan : — 

My son, my only son. 

She followed when they bore him from her 

side 
To lay her dead with others who had died. 
So sad ! so full her bitterness of fears ! 
Her future — O, how desolate its years, 
Alone, without her son ! 

"Weep not." What means that loving word 

she hears. 
That seeks with tenderness to dry her tears? 
"Thy son comes back in strength to be thy 

stay; 
The Love of God shall break death's cords 

to-day; 

I give thee here thy son." 



HEARTEASE 

Through all the years that memory holds our 

hearts have known the craving 
That calls with hunger keen and strong for 

human nature's saving — 
The love that gives itself to love and fills our 

being truly. 
And, though impassioned, always calm, nor 

yet displayed unduly. 
The loves of earth are partial all and often 

evanescent; 
ihey fail to satisfy the heart with yearning 

ever present. 
They smile to-day, to-morrow frown; in scorn 

or thoughtless folly 
They wound a friend with cut so deep he ne'er 

recovers wholly. 
We touch at certain points and part, a wall 

seems to divide us; 
A gentle warmth is in the touch, the parting 

seems to chide us: 
That wall is seldom broken down as seldom 

clambered over; 
And so "acquaintance" still we say, when love 

would have said "lover." 
But, O Thou Lov^e, all lov-es above, that 

yearning love desireth. 
Thou comfort of each hungry soul that Thee 

alone requireth. 
Give us to know the love Thou hast for us if 

we but take it; 



Teach us to bring our thirst to Thee and in 

thy fullness slake it. 
So shall our lives be free from lack, supplied 

from Thine o'er-flowing, 
No evanescence greet us there, nor moods that 

pass our knowing, 
But plentiful to meet each need, each pain and 

woe to banish 
The ocean of Thy love gives rest and all our 

worries vanish. 



ABIDING LIGHT 

Clouds and storm are all around us, 
Light of day is dim and weak; 

Hope is sinking, dread approaches; 
Anxious are the thoughts we speak. 

Little feet are needing cover. 

Little bodies must be fed; 
How, if long the storm continues. 

Shall we find the children's bread? 

All the gathering clouds of nature, 

All the darkness of our life. 
Fill us with their sad misgivings, — 

Must we perish in the strife? 

Perish with our work unfinished. 

Cherished hopes like grain cut down? 

Nature's powers, our strength opposing. 
Thwart us with their constant frown. 

How the dismal thought of failure 
Bleeds the heart that bravely strives 

For the welfare of its loved ones, 
The upbuilding of their lives! 

Ah ! Were there but cloud and sorrow 
Faint might grow the stoutest heart; 

In its burdened hour of darkness 
Seeing its fond hopes depart. 



1 1 



But it Is not always darkness 

Though the clouds shut out the light; 
Nor will sorrow hold its triumph 

Through a woeful life of night. 

Over nature's clouds and changes, 

Over our disturbing fears, 
Is the God who rules the ages 

Sympathizing in our tears. 

Light and life are his forever. 
And He cares for you and me ; 

Nought shall fail of His good purpose. 
Though His light we cannot see. 

Beyond the cloud where vision ends 
Still His light its beams doth shed; 

And though doubt doth overlook them 
Fall His blessings on our head. 

Other trials have passed over, 
And the clouds have given place 

To the hours of sun and brightness, 
And the smiling of His face. 

Could we but dislodge our doubting, 
And believe in Perfect Love, 

We should never know dejection. 
Trusting in our God above. 



12 



A HAND 

Perhaps a tiny dimpling thing, 

Temptation great to willing lips — 
A thing on which to feast the eyes 

From chubby wrist to finger tips. 
A thing that woos our tender thoughts, 

A mystery of suggestiveness — 
A something that we fain would take 

And hold in constant sweet caress. 

Perhaps a hand from which have fled 

The dimples of its infant days, 
And yet a plump and coaxing hand 

That wins its hold in many ways. 
Its daring touch is full of power, 

It rules by right of loving will; 
When its deft fingers weave our locks 

We bear for the ecstatic thrill. 

Perhaps a hand from mischief's years. 

When balls are thrown and hooks are set- 
A nimble hand and yet a strong. 

Whose color may be white or jet. 
A hand we see with thankfulness 

(When sleep its eagerness restrains) 
Is still a hand, and in its place, 

And free from ought but trivial pains. 

Perhaps a hand slender and fair, 

A dream of perfect moving grace — 

A charm that in its mission bears 
A mark we never would efface. 



13 



A hand, held by another hand, 
Sweet captive which is captor too; 

Yielding itself to golden band 
That marks the unity of two. 

Perhaps a mother's hand that holds 

A sickly babe upon her knee, 
Picture of loving tenderness 

Greater than which we may not see. 
So gentle and so welcome falls 

The soothing of a loving heart. 
That suff'ring Bees before its touch 

And sickness hastens to depart. 

Perhaps a hand grown old and gaunt, 

From which the power of work has gone, 
Woeful and sad in its distress 

It seems so much apart, alone. 
And yet, clasped in another hand 

That with it four-score years has been 
It marks the motion of a heart 

Upraised to God, the great Unseen. 



14 



LINES WRITTEN ON RECEIPT OF 
AN INVITATION TO COM- 
MENCEMENT EXERCISES 

I got the commencement programme; its ap- 
pearance is surely fine; 

The printer did his duty well and the reader 
knew the sign; 

But the finest thing about it (if the word I 
dare to say), 

Is your splendid working motto : Dura com- 
prehendite.* 

The outlook that lies before you shows many 

a hill to climb, 
The getting up is wearying and demands both 

strength and time; 
But the heart that has its purpose firmly set 

may safely say 
Strong endeavor shall achieve it; Dur.i com- 

prehendite. 

Side by side with the upward road is another 
easier far, 

Its bed is smooth and broad enough and its 
gates wide open are. 

Motto : facilis decensus,t did it dare it to dis- 
play. 

Shun it; choose the upward struggling: Dura 
Comprehendite. 

*Dura comprehendite (grapple the hard things). 
tFacilis decensus (going down is easy). 



15 



Each hard lesson in your studies grapple with 

your mental strength 
Wrestle with it undiscouraged till you make it 

yours at length. 
Wealth of mine may come in leisure, learning 

never came by play; 
Only they who work acquire it: Dura com- 

prehendite. 

Take your place among the workers, never 

think your lot is hard; 
Be continuous in your efforts, be most constant 

on your guard. 
Let no day escape unrifled, each its passing 

toll should pay; 
Grapple fast, possess its treasures; Dura com- 

prehendite. 



i6 



AT CLOSE OF DAY 

Wearied with dally toll and weight of sad- 
ness, 
Now, at close of day I come to Thee. 
I know not what I need nor how to ask It, 
But In goodness give Thou all to me ; — 
The sleep I need and the refreshing. 
Thy care for all my loved ones whom I bear 
Upon my heart unto Thy throne of grace. 
I would that we were perfect In Thy sight, 
But we are not : forgive our sins and In Thy 

mercy spare. 
I come. It may be my last coming, thus, at 

close of day to Thee. 
Thou may'st require my soul from me ere 

morning, 
And In the great world of rest and waiting I 

may be, 
Ere once again the morning breaks. 
O, grant that I may rest with those who shall 

receive 
A place beside the crystal sea. 
And grant, I pray Thee, that In that fair land 
Mine eyes may see and arms embrace 
Those, my loved ones, whom, even here, I 

seek to bless. 



17 



A LITTLE GIRL 

The leaves were falling in the woods, 
The fields were showing brown and sere; 

All nature most distinctly said: 
Behold the waning of the year. 

A little girl, with busy feet. 

Had gathered posies day by day; 

When wild-flowers failed she begged from 
friends 
Who loved and never said her nay. 

Each little cultivated plot, 

That near her home held its array, 

Was open to that little trot 

Who held their owners' hearts in sway. 

And so in other years may be 

A wider world of hearts than these. 

If her sweet life she sheds around 
On all the other lives she sees. 

And many beds of richer flowers 
Shall open to her pleading hands. 

If still she wields love's sceptre well 
And serves, herself, at love's demands. 



SLEEP 

Rest, weary one; leave God to bless 
The object of thy labor's prayer. 

Lay down thy head as on his breast, 
Trust in his love and watchful care. 

Thy battle's strain hath made thee sore, 
Thy soul is worn with ceaseless strife; 

Thy body spent amid the roar 
And tumult of thy daily life. 

But vain thy wrestling If the Lord 

Be not well-pleased thy cause to keep; 

Good effort he will honor, rest; — 
He giveth his beloved sleep. 

Commit thine hours to Him, and rest 
Calm and secure in thy repose; 

Then rise refreshed and seek his strength 
Once more to battle with thy foes. 

To guard the lip, and guard the eye, 
To close the ear to whispered sin, 

To struggle with thine own wild heart 
Till thou hast conquered self within. 

Seeking the purity that sees 

God's angels who around thee keep 

Their watch, and then renew thy rest; — 
He giveth his beloved sleep. 



This battle hath no end below; 

There is no discharge in this war; 
Where went the leader we must go 

Though faint we follow and afar. 

Faithful, enduring to the end, 

His strength shall bear us to the hour 

When the last conflict shall be fought 
And we shall triumph in His power. 

No more at morn to early rise, 
At night no longer watch to keep, 

No more the bread of sorrows ! so 
He giveth his beloved sleep. 



20 



WHAT WILL MY CAPTAIN SAY? 

Only a man with a human heart and hope for 

a longer life; 
Only a seaman, but at his post in calm as well 

as in strife. 
Only a warship waiting there with steam re- 
duced and anchors down; 
Only a liner outward bound from the port of 

Southampton town. 
England's shores were hidden near. Fog had 

thickly veiled the silent bay, 
With curbed speed through the shadowy 

white the liner made her way. 
A sudden cry, a ship ahead; so near she lay 

and motionless ! 
Full speed astern, too late, she strikes; lower 

the boats they're in distress. 
Near where the sharp prow cleft her side the 

seaman stood at duty's call. 
The first impression on his sense was loss — of 

ship, comrades, and all. 
Instinctive action, unreflecting, placed him on 

the liner's deck 
Ere thought could change or mind compose 

to hold the impulse well in check. 
A moment later, swift returning, discipline 

resumed its sway 
And duty shamed him — "Oh, what have I 

done ! What will my captain say?" 
Swift as he came, as swift leapt back, nor 

sought his act to vindicate; 
But for a moment's weakness to atone hast- 
ened to meet his fate. 

21 



That fate relented mattered not, his splendid 

loyalty had won; 
He stood with his captain through that hour, 

and his spirit said well done. 

TO A WORN PRAYER BOOK 

You little book and dear 
That often bringeth cheer 

To a heart that is sad, 
Yet giveth joyful note 
Unto a willing throat, 

Or a heart when it's glad. 

What wanderings have we seen 
And where together been 

Since the day I got you ! 
And still thy worth remains 
Amid thy many stains 

Unchanged from the new. 

Another monarch's name 
Links with Great Britain's fame, 

Nor pray we any more : 
Our good Victoria bless 
And give her cause success 

From near to utmost shore. 

And in another land 
'Neath other flag I stand 

'Mong folks who use thee not. 
Thy form still brings to mind 
Many good deeds and kind 

Which should not be forgot. 

22 



And though thy day be past 
Thy litany doth last, 

(I love to use It still.) 
May He through it addressed 
With His love fill my breast 

And make me do His will. 



23 



MEMORIAL DAY 

To-day a nation gathers round the tombs 
where soldiers lie; 
Her leaders speak the praises of the dead 
there laid to rest, 
Who, in their day and in their place, the Un- 
ion flag held high, 
And drew together North and South and 
bound the East and West, — 
From out of many severed parts made 

one united whole. 
And with their lives they gave it strength 
and with their death a soul. 

The faith in which they lived and died gave 
it a seed of hope; 
Their wisdom showed the manner and their 
sons — they found the way, 
Until a greater nation with an ever-widening 
scope 
They found a mighty nation's part among 
the great to play. 
And they bore their burden bravely still 

seeking to maintain 
The freedom of their people from the 
mountains to the main. 

And with seemly thought they gather on each 
Memorial day 
To mark the resting-places and to honor in 
their speech 



24 



The valor of the various corps that stood firm 
in the fray, 
The spirit of the leaders who were fore- 
most in the breech. 
And they teach their children wisely that 

they should honor show 
For the soldiers of their country who 
bore her hour of woe. 

As a child among the nations was once this na- 
tion known, 
By eager haste and youthful dreams and 
childhood's lack of caste; 
But all its youthful vigor had a temper of its 
own, 
When it settled on a purpose it held it firm 
and fast 
And the growing state rode safely 

though in a troubled sea 
With wealth's subtle shoals around her 
and self upon her lee. 

But ever in her greatest need she found a mas- 
ter true 
Who held her steady in her course that 
made for honor's goals, 
And in his care she weathered every dang'rous 
wind that blew. 
And he found the proper pilots to thread 
the treach'rous shoals, 
Till in the nations' gatherings she re- 
receives the honors shown 
To a nation that has done her part and is 
to stature grown. 
25 



But as the years succeed the years like needs 
arise anew; 
The Union still is to maintain and save 
from evil stress; 
She needs unselfish hearts to plan, unselfish 
hands to do; 
And the brightness of her honor is kept by 
watchfulness. 
Her hope is in her trained youth, who, 

well-taught in statehood's lore, 
Lay their hearts upon her altars as their 
fathers did before. 



26 



A MODERN PSALM 

O Lord, the proud are risen up 

Thy servants' path around. 
They flaunt their emblems everywhere, 

They crush us to the ground. 
They do not lo\ e our holy faith 

But court it for its aid; 
'Neath the mantle of its worship 

They practice unafraid. 
They seek to buy its ministers 

To speak of pleasant things; 
They do not wish to hear it said 

Their riches may take wings. 
They do not wish to hear the woes 

That from thy lips once fell, 
When to thy humble followers 

Thy precepts Thou didst tell ; 
As on the lowly toilers' lot 

Thy blessing Thou did'st lay, 
And bade them love and work and trust, 

Flee doubt, and watch and pray. 
For riches Thou gav'st little hope 

That they could Heaven win, 
A camel easier could pass 

A needle's eye within. 
But blessing on Thy poor was laid; 

O, bring us very near, 
And give to us the heritage 

Of those Thy name that fear. 



27 



O Lord, the proud are risen up, 

They make it hard to live; 
They fashion all the modes in vogue, 

Whose voice is always give ; 
And on the poor who can't conform 

They raise the haughty brow; 
And none may go where lore is taught 

Save so as they allow. 
Our children look with wonder's eyes 

Because we cannot spare 
The wearing and the spending which 

Wealth's pampered children share. 
They do not understand as yet 

How poverty is bless'd ; 
To them to lack what others have 

Is to be sore distressed. 
O Lord, to them giv^e early, please. 

Discerning light between 
The wealth that ever doth abide 

And passing earthly sheen; 
Teach them the love of wisdom's store 

That they its words may heed. 
And walk its paths unceasingly 

Until they win its meed. 
And grant that they with us may know 

Thy presence ever near; 
Lord, give us all the heritage 

Of those thy name that fear. 



28 



VIA SOLITARIA 

Alone he went to seek for health though well 
he knew 
That first the gates of death he should pass 
through, and sleep, 
Ere his frail body found again its former 
strength ; 
And that for him fond absent hearts would 
sadly weep, 
As men will mourn their dead, in spite of 

Christian faith. 
Believing, yet awhile unheeding, what it 
saith. 

Alone he went, and though he bore a heavy 
cross. 
He could not bear that others, suff'ring 
with his pain. 
Should look into his eyes and smile and bid 
him cheer 
While they betrayed that in their thoughts 
they ne'er again 
Looked for the deep unhampered breath 

from weakness freed 
But hoped, at best, that slowly should 
the life recede. 

And where the Western mountains raise their 
lofty heads, 
A little while he rested till his change 
should come ; 



29 



A little while of suft'ring that was bravely 
borne, 
A few kind words to others, — then his lips 
were dumb. 
Into His Father's hand he gave his soul 

to keep, 
Then to the nearer presence passed as in 
a sleep. 

Strange hands but kind for him the last sad 
service did. 
And nought was lacking of accustomed 
care but kin; 
The church to him her solemn rites most glad- 
ly gave 
And he, in sleep, was borne her sacred 
courts within ; 
Then earth to earth; but the unfettered 

soul could roam 
Among the mysteries that lie 'twixt here 
and home. 



30 



EVENING RETROSPECT 

My soul in silence weeps in the quiet ev'ning 

hour, 
When the busy day is hushed and conscience 
hath its power; 
For, spread before its searching gaze. 
The sheet, that was at morning fair, 
Is foul and stained in various ways 

And many grevious marks are there. 
O ! fair and bright in stainless white 

Is each new morn when we awake ; 
But wrongs are done and good we shun 

As our ev'ry-day round we make; 
And marks show there of love restrain'd 

When clear the call of love was seen; 
And the bitter thoughts we cherished, — 
These have dimmed the once perfect 
sheen. 

My soul in silence weeps as it passes in review 
Sins it oft has mourned before and mourneth 
now anew ; 
And the heart is heavy and sore 

And droops 'neath the load of its woe, 
That to sins that triumphed before 

It should see the victory go. 
O! the sadness of the vision! 

How great the weight of such a shame ! 
Morn I marked with new decision 
And evening is too black to name. ~ 



31 



Most hateful thoughts I did not speak, 
Incisive words by tongue set free, 

With Vanity's recurring lust 

Have, O, so sadly ! humbled me. 

My soul in silence weeps as in pain it mourns 

its fall, 
Dreading in spite of hope its sins' continuous 

thrall; 
But weakness is my own, and power cometh 

Lord from Thee : 
My soul do Thou restore and in mercy smile 

on me. 

SIC TRANSIT 

We wake, yet drowsily, and rise 

To a short'ning day of labor. 
We pause to rest at early noon, 

Soon the falling night is neighbor. 
And so the wider day of life : 

Half waking we begin its race 
Earnest awhile, with zeal press on 

To reach some much desired place ; 
Then worn we close our eyes in sleep 
Born of the impenetrable deep. 



32 



THE GRAVE OF HOPE 

I found that lonely, cheerless, spot, 
When from my usual course I strayed; 

And in my wanderings I sought 

The scene of ventures long delayed. 

Where men for min'ral wealth had made 

A road into the rocky wild, 
And dreamed of cities there to rise 

If fickle fortune on them smiled. 

Last haunt of human kind, it stood. 
Ere they the travell'd highway left 

And striking for the mountain's brow 
With hopeful toil a roadway cleft. 

The scenes of their defeat I sought 
But had not thought so near to find 

The tokens of another fall 

More deeply sorrowful in kind. 

The little house still firmly stood. 
Built of hewn logs that jointed well. 

What hopes the builder must have had 
The nature of his work will tell. 

With care he'd finished out and in; 

Each little room was cozy made. 
There he prepared the winters storms 

To meet, and smile at, unafraid. 



33 



Beyond his house, but very near, 
He built a stable snug and warm ; 

And close beside a little cot 

To shield his sheep from ev'ry harm. 

Little by little he had cleared 

The land around his new-found home. 
In front his labor had disclosed 

A rapid torrent's angry foam. 

And great his joy when he could stand, 
With wife and children near his door, 

And see the water, whit'ning fall 
From jutting rock to craggy floor. 

And other feelings in his breast 

Were mingled with his pride and joy. 

When to their son his wife had said, 
"Our home is beautiful, my boy." 

How well they labored let the ground 
Out of her fatness witness bear 

The clover sod still in the field — 
Stray flowers to mark a garden fair. 

Then ev'ry morn to them was bright 
And cheerful hope set not at all ; 

No dark'ning shadows hid their light 
Nor warned of their impending fall. 

But not less awful was the stroke 
That it without a warning fell. 

No enemy had wished them such 
Else, surely, he had hated well. 

34 



Diptheria, that dreaded thing, 

Fastened upon their only son; 
And as fierce beast its victim holds 

It held him till his life was run. 

No neighbor aided in their need. 

Distance and fear kept them away. 
The father's arm the timber hewed 

That hid the son from light of day. 

In agony he dug the grave 

Still seen behind that cottage drear 
There stricken parents laid their boy 

And shed the unavailing tear. 

They lived; or did they? Was it life — 
At morn to wish the day was past; 

At night on sleepless couch to toss 

Till morn her gray forewarnings cast? 

They still went on about their work, 

But on their will a palsy lay. 
Each saw how blighted were their hopes 

Yet, bravely, each forebore to say. 

The produce of the field declared 
The lack of the impelling power; 

The hands that wove the winter's warmth 
Had less to give than wonted dower. 

Through winter's storms they still held on- 
The habit from a former hope — 

Though well they knew that hope was gone 
That nerved them with the wild to cope. 

35 



That year the cold was keen and long; 

Ere spring the fodder scanty grew ; 
Lean were their cattle, sad their hearts, 

When May, at last, the cold o'er-threw. 

The woodpile that each former spring 
Had stored next winter's heat away, 

Was scarce begun when seed-time came 

With warmth and flowers and lambs at 
play. 

May-hap returning spring had brought 

Emotion like its by-gone thrill, 
When balmy airs and growing things 

With gladness used their hearts to fill. 

But that the pinch of winter left 

Their youngest child with cold distressed, 
And tender care and gentle spring 

Failed to relieve the choked-up breast. 

Pneumonia, they said it was, 

That stole that youthful life away, 

And for her living presence left 
A silent form of human clay. 

Beside her brother she was laid. 

The two graves fill that little plot. 
There in tears the mother planted 

Immortelles and forget-me-not, 



36 



And at their heads a golden glow, 

Which, still untouched by browsing deer, 

O'er them its yellow glory spreads 

When autumn winds are chill and drear. 

Around their bed, their father built. 
Of cedar-wood and six rails high, 

A fence, well bound with cords of steel. 
To guard the rest in which they lie. 

That duty done, with old-time vigor 
Born of a purpose new and sad, 

He sold, or failing, gave away 
Each living creature that he had. 

His home and clearing none would buy 
Nor would they take them as a gift; 

And, so, today they still remain — 
Memorial of misplaced thrift. 

Once more they looked out o'er the stream, 
Once more went through their little home, 

Once more they wept beside their dead. 
Then, homeless, they set out to roam. 

No longer filled with hope to do. 

To make and save for years to come. 

But hopeful only to be brave, 

And always, of their suff'rings, dumb. 



37 



Perhaps we meet them, you and I, 
In town or city's crowded street — 

A man from whom the weight of years 
Has ta'en the swiftness of the feet. 

A man, Avhose lorm bespeaks past strength, 

Simple in Hfe, in habit sad, 
Shunning the rush and crush of men 

Who in their eager haste go mad; 

With hues upon his face that mark 
The power of sorrow's deeper sway, 

And, sometimes, in his eyes a look 
That is bent on the far-away. 

Perhaps we meet her in the mart 

Where she their humble wants supplies— 

Sweet-faced with sorrow's discipline 

That she hides 'ncath her cheerful guise. 

Her \oice is tender in its tone. 
Her greeting is kindly spoken; 

And yet, — we feel that cheerful mask 
Conceals a heart that is broken. 

The fellow-feeling of our kind 
Perceives, unaided by the eyes. 

Her smiles are but the ripened fruit 
That grows from resignation's sighs. 

And of their one left child ? Is she 

A solace ever by their side. 
Graced with the Avilling hands and feet 

Their weight of labor to divide? 
38 



Or, — is she wife and mother, too, 
Oft seeing in her children dear, 

The image of her sister laid 

In that lone, distant spot so drear? 

Three hearts are these that never quite 
Will lose the mem'ry of their pain. 

But, in reflective moments, still 

Will see those lonely graves again. 

Three graves ! Two in the little plot 
Where children twain lie side by side; 

Their former home, the grave of hope, 
The spot where their ambition died. 



What added warrant could you find, 

Ecclesiastes, in that place 
For your sad cry of vanity 

That sorely doth delude our race? 

Where they their chief est treasures kept 
The wild-bird now her brood doth raise. 

Where-in is value if it pass 

Like morning mist in summer days? 

Wherein is value? Is it not 

In that which ups and downs defies — 
In Love that never fails but draws 

With growing strength toward the skies? 



39 



A WHOLE-HEARTED GIFT 

In a pleasant Eastern village — 

'Tis thus the story goes — 
Lived a little crippled maiden 

Sad with her load of woes. 

So lame her feet she needs must sit 

Through all the weary day 
Where-e'er by kind hands she Avas set 

To watch the others play. 

Her parents poor no means had found 

To help their helpless child 
Who realized their poverty 

And, suffering, still smiled. 

Yet in her heart was longing great 
To move from place to place, 

And see her comrades near at hand 
As happy games they'd trace. 

But neighbors, though they too were poor, 
Gave what they ill could spare ; 

And bought good crutches for the maid 
Who round on them could fare. 

To her they were a source of joy. 
They made her life seem good. 

How rich she felt when by their aid 
Across the square she stood! 



40 



Beyond the square a little church 
God's goodness called to mind; 

And there a faithful preacher taught 
The willing he could find. 

Long had he labor'd in that charge 

And little int'rest roused; 
Indiff'rence with the villagers, 

Was most securely housed. 

Oft through his work though not of it 

He weary grew and sad, 
And far and farther seemed the morn 

Whose dawn should make him glad. 

Who keepeth Isr'el never sleeps : 

His comfort was at hand; 
And from an unexpected source 

Sprang strong within that band. 

Oft had the preacher pled for woe 
That hunger might be fed, 

And meagre was the bounty given 
To send the starving bread. 

More oft for ignorance he begged — 
That what they had they'd share, 

To spread the story of that One 
Fairest 'mong many fair. 

And once again in tenderness 

He plead, for Christ's great love. 



41 



That they should gi\e as He had given 
Who gave his home above. 

The ushers Avent their usual round 

x'\nd got the common dole ; 
It seemed as if the preacher's plea 

Had failed to stir a soul. 

One pew remained where sat alone 

The little cripple maid; 
The usher courteously approached 

Yet hesitating stayed, 

Lest one so poor had nought to give 
x'\nd might feel hurt and sore 

If heedless and obtrusively 
The plate was passed before. 

The maid an answ'ring movement made 
While filled her eyes with tears. 

Much did it cost to give her gift — 
Much striving, many fears. 

Yet for the sake of His great love 

That did her heart enthrall, 
She laid her crutches on the plate 

Giving her wealth — her all. 

With careful hand the usher held 
Them balanced up the aisle, 

Then gently laid them at the desk 
With comprehending smile. 



42 



A wondrous hush was in that room 

When on their senses fell 
The perfectness of that child's gift, 

Passing what words could tell, 

A white-haired man the silence broke: 

In choking voice he said : — 
"I redeem the crutches brothers," 

Then pointed to the maid. 

All in the little church beheld, 

As he laid down the fee. 
That tear-drops fell beside it so 

He scarce the plate could see. 

Emotion spread and all were stirred, 

And dim grew many eyes. 
That dimness let the hearts see clear 

Duty and sacrifice. 

There were those who sat indiff'rent 
To the strong voice of Love, 

Who by this simple act were moved 
Their selfishness above. 

And they gave as ne\er before 

In feeling and in wealth; 
And some were there whose spirits took 

Their first step toward health. 

The cords that then with life first thrilled 

Will not be still again, 
But ever the cry of sorrow 

Will move them with its pain. 

43 



VINCIT QUI SE VINCIT 

The blessing of the Lord of Hosts, by Israel 

declared 
In that far off home in Egypt his son for him 

prepared, 
Had come upon the people great who from 

his stock had grown 
Till numbers led to sins of pride entangling 

e'en the throne. 

But the warrior, — king and captain — after 

the rod was stayed, 
Had set his affairs in order and for his people 

prayed; 
Then on Bath-sheba's loyal son had put the 

signs of state, 
And bade him live in peace and build, be just 

as he was great. 

Soon the young king saw his vision and sought 
for wisdom's dow'r. 

And from God well pleased received wisdom 
with wealth and power. 

For long years he served his people in that 
most trying place ; 

Hiding favor from the wicked, the poor be- 
held his face. 

Wearied in the cause of justice quiet he'd seek 

and rest. 
And like lonely Jacob wrestling in prayer he 

was blest: 



44 



Then reflecting solitary strange things would 
strangely weigh 

Giving thoughts and words and deeds a spirit- 
ual assay. 

And the worthy things that came forth un- 

scath'd from the trial, 
Set he down as wisdom's dogmas that take no 

denial. 
He thought of many warriors his fathers 

throne around, 
Their mighty deeds, their hateful crimes, the 

end that they had found : 

He thought of one, of name unwrit, who by 

his actions told 
That he himself had conquered well and did 

his conquest hold. 
Against him were no bloody crimes, no charge 

of lust preferred, 
His sword would flash at duty's call but ne'er 

in vengeance erred; 

His word was always fitly given, his speech 
was free from guile. 

His choice was ever manhood's part disdain- 
ing trick and wile. 

And, so, against these men of note the king in 
balance flung 

This lowly man of self-restraint and high in 
air there swung 



45 



That band of daring warriors before whom 

cities fell, 
For in the balance of the soul true worth alone 

would tell. 
Then the king bade write this proverb : Who 

doth his soul restrain 
Is greater far than he who leads a fiery con- 

qu'ring train. 

Great changes came in later years. Isr'el her 
God forsook. 

No pleading heard she; and no word from 
her own holy book 

Could move her to Jehovah's will; no warn- 
ing of her end 

Could bring back to her wayward heart the 
love of God her friend. 

So his protection he withdrew. Her foemen 

gathered round. 
Her children went to lands afar; her chiefs in 

chains were bound. 
Her name as Isr'el ceases here; and till on 

other shore 
By other name we find her called we hear of 

her no more. 

The wickedness of Judah met a punishment as 
just — 

Borne down by many conquerors, then scat- 
tered like fine dust. 



46 



Her sons are found in ev'ry land: they bear 

their nation's woe; 
Still they keep the hope of promise — Thou 

shalt to zion go. 

Of rediscovered Israel, in other speech and 

name, 
Young nations rise 'neath western skies her 

heritage to claim — 
The larger word of prophecy that God the 

Father spake. 
That they should broken be by none, and 

many should they break. 

The blessing of the breast and womb, the 

blessing of the arm. 
The power to put the wicked down, to shield 

the weak from harm. 
And of that race in Britain's isle in troublous 

times and hard 
When the English race was feeble, its free- 
dom hard to guard. 
Rose Alfred son of Aethelwulf, the first of 

English kings 
Who gave his people learning's boon, their 

arms the power of wings. 
Who set foundations broad and deep on which 

the state might stand, 
That would rise from lowly Wessex anci be 

an empire grand. 



47 



This noble youth at divers times in trying 

straits was found, 
His people scattered from their homes, their 

homes rased to the ground. 
He might, like others, then have chos'n to flee 

and be at ease, 
And leave his people to their foes whose greed 

naught could appease; 
But he chose to suffer rather with his young 

English state, 
And bide his time with patience long and 

work as well as wait. 
And the conquest of the spirit by this young 

ruler gained. 
Saved English love of liberty that with the 

race remained. 

Since Alfred's time long vistas lie dim with 

the mists of years; 
The race he cherished in its youth has grown 

through toil and tears; 
Till the multitude of nations, to Jacob's 

grandson giv'n. 
Is spread through all the earth abroad in 

lands from darkness riv'n. 

And the enabling wings, first spread by Al- 
fred for his state. 

Grew from their primal weakness rude to 
lofty ships and great. 

Their trade in peace, their voice in war, is 
found in ev'ry sea, 

Their flag bespeaks that freedom still where- 
with he made them free. 
48 



They in their sev'ral branches keep a watch 

upon the main ; 
The robbers cease before their power, their 

rights the weak regain. 
In ev'ry noble cause and good they bear a 

foremost part, 
The sorrow of the suffering is ever on their 

heart. 

The high ideals of their race are those that 
Alfred set: — 

The home secure for love's abode — the home 
they hallow yet — 

Their time in thirds, to labor giv'n, to sleep's 
refreshing hours. 

To worship God and recreate both mind and 
body's powers; 

To keep the state in righteousness as well as 
honor's van — 

To teach each child eternal truth, to empha- 
size the man. 

A thousand years have come and gone, red- 
writ on hist'ry's page. 

Still these noble hopes of Alfred, nearer, pos- 
sess the age. 

Our greatness, as among the great, is in pro- 
portion just 

As we give our lives in duty to those who are 
our trust. 

To the weak among our fellows who sink up- 
on the way. 

To the dark among the nations who need the 
light of day. 

49 
« 



In conquest of our selfish dreams we elevate 

our race 
And make it easier for our sons who follow in 

their place 
Fo apprehend this lesson grand — to teach 

both men and state, 
That they themselves must conquer first 

whose conquests would be great. 
The greatest men build up their lives upon 

this noble plan, 
In self-restraint and helpfulness raising their 

fellow-man. 
And all the states in faith and truth who to 

this purpose hold. 
Show self-control is more than might and 

righteousness than gold. 



50 



ABIGAIL 

O, wise beyond thy time ! If so it be 

That wisdom can be greater with the years. 

At whose feet sat'st thou in that long ago 
Unsafe, unrestful, anxious unto fears? 

How came it that thou first should wed a fool. 

Thou whose endowments did thee fit to 

mate 

A king of world-renown whose name endures 

Through many cycles, 'mong the greatest, 

great? 

Wert thou the child of prudent poverty. 
By lust of wealth upon the altar laid. 

When churlish Nabal of the many flocks 
To win thy beauty for his home essayed? 

Or brought'st thou to his home to serve thy 
hand, 
The maidens five who went with thee to 
meet 
The angry cheftain of the wilderness 

With gifts of wine to drink and food to 
eat? 

If so, what folly moved thy guardian's heart 
To close his thoughts to selfishness and 
pride, 

That to be folly's partner thou wast given 
Till death, in mercy, from him did divide? 



SI 



How shall we know ? And what thy mother's 
name, 
And what thy father's house in Israel 
The passing years have hid. We only know 
That thou had'st learned wisdom's lesson 
well. 

Still in your youth, you found your place with 
him 
Called to be king — first of a noble line; 
And though we lose thee 'mong the brave and 
wise 
Whose many virtues round his throne did 
shine, 

Yet well we know thy wisdom helped the state 
When oft the king was troubled through 
dark years, 
For in the records of their strife and pain 
Neither thy son's name nor thine own ap- 
pears. 

But living wisely still thou did'st eschew 
Ambition's call that others drew to sin. 

And loyal, loving, peaceful thou did'st dwell 
Patient and meek thy husband's realm 
within. 

Than thine what son could better teaching 
have ? 
Earth's all is theirs who know how to be 
meek; 
And worthier than pomp or power it is 
The beauty of humility to seek. 
52 



VASHTI 

For six long months, continuously, 

The monarch with his lords did feast 
And showed the treasures of his state, 

From Western seas to distant East. 
Then to the city's lowlier throng 

For still one week he spread the board 
That all might taste as they should choose. 

The favor of their king and lord. 
Once in his brain, inflamed by wine, 

A most unusual thought had place, 
That he the crowd his queen would show 

In all her beauty and her grace. 
"Bid Vashti come," he gave command 

To those who waited on his hand, 
"My people shall this day behold 

The beauteous queen of all this land." 

But Vashti came not. In her place 

As she her sex did entertain 
Unhesitating she refused 

To do that thing whate'er the pain. 
Full well she knews when thus she chose. 

No more she'd hold the queenly state; 
A lowly prison house or death. 

She knew, would be her speedy fate. 
But greater than her royal state 

Her woman's honor on her lay; 
Before that throng of revellers 

No woman should make such display. 



53 



O, Vashti ! In these distant years 

What was thine end we cannot tell 
Whether in lonely banishment 

Or swiftly by the sword you fell. 
But Media's sceptre from thee riv'n 

Far wider realm hath given thee, 
And the honor thou did'st honor 

Still helps to make thy sisters free. 
Peer of noblest Roman matron ! 

No folly looks to thee for lead, 
But thy brav'ry is remembered 

And thou art still a queen indeed. 



54 



ESTHER 

"I go this way as thou dost bid 
Fond guardian of my orphan years, 

But, know, — who enters unbesought. 
Enters indeed through many fears." 

"One law, 'tis death, obtaineth there 
For all save whom he favor shows, 

And gives the golden scepter's tip 

That they to him may tell their woes." 

"But fast for me all of my blood 
Three days and nights continuously. 

My maids and I will likewise fast, 

To find grace with the king Fll pray." 

"Then with a chastened heart I'll cross, 
Fearful, that fateful threshold o'er; 

And if I perish, — so be it. 

This evil lies not at my door." 

God gave her favor in his sight, 
And gracious her reception was; 

Despite her fears and customs stern 
Of ancient Media's steadfast laws. 

"We are sold, I and my people. 
Gracious king, regard my cry; 

If thine eyes see me with favor 
My humble suit do not deny." 



55 



"Give me my life, O king, I pray; 

Give me, I beg, my people too; 
For our enemy hath wronged us 

His savage hatred to pursue." 

"Death and destruction are the lot 
Our enemy hath planned for us; 

Had it been less — been slavery — 
I had not dared approach thee thus." 

"But, O my king if I spake not. 
And we should perish one and all; 

What race is there that could replace 
The loss you suffer by our fall." 

"Then, O my king, I pray thee save 
The head thy favor hath raised up; 

And save the people of my blood. 
Lest I drink death in sorrow's cup." 

Brave was her plea, great her success; 

And new through many, many years, 
A nation celebrates her deed, 

And fondly still her name reveres. 

And more, — where-e'er this story goes 
Of brav'ry in these ancient days, 

Thy name, O Esther, is a joy 

Lips part to speak in tender praise. 



56 



WORK-TIME SONG 

There are songs we love when we gather in 

From the calls of the busy day — 
From the roads and rocks and the deeds that 
win 
The things that we use by the way. 
There are songs that sway us with love's soft 
spells, 
Or fill us with filial pride — 
That tell us the story of wedding bells 
Or of how our forefathers died. 
There are songs of the sad, 
There are songs of the glad. 
There are songs of the brave and fair; 
There are songs of tears, 
There are songs of fears, 
There are songs of music rare, — 
All these are the songs of the playful hour 
That comes as a part of labor's dow'r. 

There are songs of the soul as it passes 

Through its time of trial here. 
There are songs of its slow upbuilding 

As it rises to God more near. 
There are songs of the faithful witnessings 

Of holy martyrs at the stake, 
Who denied the world's cunning caressings, 

Unswerving, their high course to take. 
Oft we sing of their pains 
And we sing of the gains 

Their sufferings wrought for men; 



57 



We sing of their joy, 
Now free from alloy, 
With them we praise God again. 
And these are the songs of the restful time 
We couple in thought with the church-bell's 
chime. 

There are songs that laborers love to hear 

In factory, mine, or quarry; 
Where brave men in thousands toil through 
the year 
Dread poverty's thrust to parry; 
For the coal from the mine has been taken 

And with water made to serve 
In the heavier burdens man once bore 
In rack of muscle and nerve. 
And the loud shriek is sweet 
Of the white misty sheet. 
As from its cell it rushes, 
Or with pounding shock 
Strikes the drill on rock 
And small its strong grain crushes. 
And the weary body is glad of rest 
From the heavy burdens steam beareth best. 

With all of steam's jarring rumble and noise 

There's a music of its own. 
Filled full with majestic movement and poise 

To the ear to hearing grown. 
And the free air that by its mighty thrust 

Is squeezed to a working thing, 
Will drive the drill through the flying rock- 
dust 

58 



With a joyous whirr and ring. 
There is hope in the shock 
Of the drill and the rock, 
Of what the future may feel, 
There's joy in the throb 
Of air and its sob, 
When urging the biting steel. 
O! these are the songs in work-time we hear. 
These are the songs that to labor bring cheer. 



59 



CAMPAIGN SONG 

As from the conflict stern we rest 
With arms in hand and mail on breast, 
We'll sing, though lately we were pressed, 
A song of our promised land; 
Or a song of the way we have journeyed 
And of the camps we have made on our way 
Since we entered the ranks of God's army, 
And set out for the land of endless day. 
Then loud let us raise our praises 
At the close of this hard-fought day. 
For the grace He always giveth — 
The grace He giveth alway. 

Our early steps were sorely tried, 
Fair Vanity had fain been guide 
"As others do so should you, too," 
Oft the dazzling temptress cried; 
But the songs of dear Zion reached our ears 
From the lips of the brave who passed before 
And we knew that they waved victorious 

palms 
Around the throne on the beautiful shore. 
And louder they raised their praises 
Through the hours of unchanging day 
He giveth grace — He giveth grace — 
Sufficient His grace alway. 

When our feet longer held the road 
Closer our spirits drew to God, 
Yet proud ambition with a nod 
Would lure our thoughts far astray. 

60 



But ere too far before her power we fell 
Redeeming love made its sweet voice be heard, 
And many blessings for the poor did tell 
With hopeful words for those that sadly erred. 
Then with cheer our sadness mingling 
Amid our shame we gladly raised, 
Timid songs His grace adoring — 
His grace — grace that should be praised. 

Since then we oft have fiercely fought 
Lest Envy should control our thought, 
Or that our hands by Malice bought 
Should seek vengeance unholy; 
And useless cares we never should have borne 
Have bowed our shoulders 'neath their hate- 
ful load. 
While jealous voices raised in spite or scorn_ 
Have strewed keen thorns along our pilgrim 
road. 
Now with their sorrows behind us 
We can look with upturned gaze 
Where the rest we seek awaiteth 
And we shall behold His face. 

And though hard has been the striving 

'Gainst the Evil One's contriving, 

There'll be joy in the arriving 

When salvation is complete, 
And with joy through the strife that remain- 

eth, 
We shall sing of that sweet beautiful land 
Where the communion of saints is perfect 
Amid the throngs of the purified band. 

6i 



of trials we will not complain, 
But praises sing with glad refrain, 
FoY the harder is the campaign 
The sweeter will be our rest. 



SUGAR TIME 

When the promise of the summer 

Wakes the sleeping maple trees. 
And returning birds are floating, 

Their first shy notes on the breeze; 
Then the young and old together 

Dream of sugar-camps aglow, 
For sug'ring is a jolly time 

'Twixt the summer and the snow. 

In the evening's mirk and shadow 

When the fires are burning bright, 
They gather round the steaming pans 

In the hemlock's Bick'ring light; 
And the elders swap their stories 

Of their courting long ago, 
For wooing's always good in April 

'Twixt the summer and the snow 

Old grandma's face is bright with s'miles 

As round flies the pleasant jest 
How grandpa met her by his wiles 

And how well his suit he pressed. 
And the old man chuckles gaily 

O'er his tricks of long ago. 
When he wooed and won his sweetheart 

'Twixt the summer and the snow. 
62 



And while the sugar hardens clear 

On its bed of whitest snow, 
Young folks are follVing in the steps 

Of their elders long ago. 
Young Sammy has a wistful poise, 

Junia's eyes a tender glow: 
For they've found the spell of spring-time 

'Twixt the summer and the snow. 



GRADUATION SONG 

To-day we join to say farewell 

Beloved school to thee. 
For long thy halls in gentle bonds 

Have trained us to be free. 
Now like the birdlings from their nest 

We are about to flee. 
We look with hope before us far — 

A widening life lies there. 
And its voice of promise calls us 

To dreamlands that are fair. 
But a tender sadness shadows 
Anticipations rare. 

Vale, Vale, Alma mater. 

Echo, dear halls, the sad refrain. 
Vale. Vale, Valedico— 
Valedico, once again. 



63 



Perhaps the birdling never comes 

Back to its place of birth, 
Perhaps its httle life is lost 

In wide expanse of earth 
Or in winging and in singing 

Forgetteth all but mirth. 
But thy children love more deeply, 

Though hope calls them away. 
And each future year they'll greet thee 

On Graduation Day, 
In glad remembrance they'll recall 

The friendships of their stay. 

Vale, Vale, Alma mater. 

Our sadness shall not mar the strain. 
Vale, Vale, Valedico — 

Valedico, once again. 



64 



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NOV 29 i:09 



